The diner is empty of staff and patrons, as it always is, save for the one who willed it into existence in the first place. There's work to be done in Solvunn, but Michael's had all he can take of shoving the dead back under and warding pagan shrines for one day. Maybe if the locals weren't worshiping false gods in the first place, they wouldn't have this problem.
His domain is not the reprieve it once was, the Horizon proving almost as unstable as the rest of Abraxas, but it's still a break from seeing familiar faces and ashen wing-prints out of the corner of his eye. Right up until his little brother stumbles through the doors, that is.
"Lucifer?"
The first words are simple surprise. The dead are not supposed to rise, dead archangels even less so, but apparently Abraxas is making exceptions this week. Michael is quick to stand from the booth where he'd been seated, covering his shock with a familiar disapproving look. Lucifer is not a mere phantom. He is all ragged grace, but very much real.
Michael's expression darkens.
"I'm getting used to seeing the dead returned to life, but they usually do a better job of it."
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His domain is not the reprieve it once was, the Horizon proving almost as unstable as the rest of Abraxas, but it's still a break from seeing familiar faces and ashen wing-prints out of the corner of his eye. Right up until his little brother stumbles through the doors, that is.
"Lucifer?"
The first words are simple surprise. The dead are not supposed to rise, dead archangels even less so, but apparently Abraxas is making exceptions this week. Michael is quick to stand from the booth where he'd been seated, covering his shock with a familiar disapproving look. Lucifer is not a mere phantom. He is all ragged grace, but very much real.
Michael's expression darkens.
"I'm getting used to seeing the dead returned to life, but they usually do a better job of it."